Behind my skull, rests my brain;
Safely out of my control.
A crown of sorts,
A jesters hat.
Amongst all others,
I stand to be culled.
My bones rattle, and my skin crawls.
All in all while I wait for clarity.
Deep in the brain, rests a world.
Filled with eyes, and spirals of mercury.
Who am I to deny it’s existence, or to deny a peak inside?
Behind my skull, rests my brain;
Different from the rest.
For my understanding shapes the way it is.